Lumos Maximus
by Harrypottersmystry
Summary: Godric had never felt accepted in his life. Until he arrived at Atlantis, and was shown what a real home felt like. Maybe it had more to do with the company than the change of environment. The pretty blonde certainly had a lot to say about his former 'family'. Short fic. Gen.
1. Land of Legend

**Disclaimer: I am not JKR. Any characters out of canon belong to me.**

A tall, red-headed figure appeared with a crack on the village apparition square. The people milling around watched the man with varying degrees of curiosity and wariness. There was not one among them who had not heard of this adolescent; no, man. They gave him space however, and went about their business as they normally would, though not a few glances were thrown over their shoulders.

The figure of interest was scanning the area with keen, well trained green eyes. There were rumours, he knew, of a dark dictator living just outside of the legendary forest surrounding this self-sufficient settlement. However, not one of the inhabitants seemed the least bit bothered. Intrigued, the nineteen-year-old headed towards a small pub nearby.

The place was not shabby, but it wasn't luxurious either. It was comfortable though, and he spotted a middle-aged man behind the counter, cleaning and stacking up goblets neatly on to one side. He walked over.

"Excuse me sir?" the man looked up, and his eyes widened with recognition before he composed himself. "Yes?"

"My name is Godric and-"

The man cut him off, eyes twinkling merrily at the young man. "Yes, lad, I know who you are. Everyone in this noble land of Atlantis does" He smiled as the teen's eyes widened, not at his apparent fame, but at what he called the land.

"A-Atlantis? You mean this is-"

"The land where phoenixes sing and where men and unicorns roam the forests side-by-side? The very same."

Godric could only stare at the man dumbly, dark dictator forgotten. He was in Atlantis, the land where magic had first manifested itself, the home of free wizards who practiced their magic without fear of being burnt at the stake. Atlantis, the world that only the most pure-hearted mages were rumoured to find. No wonder they weren't afraid.

The man, guessing where his thoughts were leading, shook his head. "Lad, evil may be kept out from this blessed land, but it won't stop it, now will it? The wizard was one of us, and was thrown forcibly out by the inherent magic. He has hidden himself not far from the forest and is plotting and planning, we're sure, of conquering the neighbouring towns, slaughtering wizard and muggle alike. Our searches for him have been fruitless, and the coward is too afraid to show himself". The man paused for a minute, placing a glass of maed in front of Godric, who took it absently. "We have not been idle, however. Our warriors and look-out are always on the alert; our warders are forever strengthening and repairing the wards with the cursebreakers tirelessly looking for ways to find his abode and break the charms upon it". He sighed heavily. Godric looked at him curiously.

"We have heard of the valour of your family. There has been much talk about your... sudden departure"

The redhead's fingers tightened around his wand and glass as the words were uttered. The man looked at him with an unreadable expression before abruptly beginning to speak again.

"What most don't know is that every single man, woman and child in Atlantis has a story on how they got here. Some are born here, but most... most have their own history, their own tales to speak of. People who do not fit in with today's society and way of living find themselves a place to call home. Our population is small, but it is more than we could ask for". The man turned away and went back to cleaning the glasses.

Godric did not notice. He was lost in his thoughts. His mind turned over and processed what he had heard and connected them with the observations he had made and the stories he had heard.

No one had questioned his presence. Atlantis was said to be a land where magic hummed in the air, where castles built in air never fell, where truth and logic were not lost in clouds of petty prejudice and fear. They were people trained well, he could tell. The barman himself had a strong aura and showed signs of being a potioneer; there were several clean cauldrons stacked in a corner and he could see many ingredients lining the shelves above it.

"Do you know where I can stay?"

The barman turned and smiled.


	2. Demons

_Alan was in front of him. He was screaming; screaming like a man under a million cruciatus curses. The fire burned; higher, brighter, stronger._

_The flames responded to him. They moved away. But no one had said a word to him. No one had asked him how he was. The love in their eyes was replaced by a wary, guarded look._

_He left. Out of the door by midnight, six months after the incident. He could not stay in a place where everyone thought he was a freak. Alan would be heart-broken, he knew; he had left his brother a message. His parents would likely send out a search party and tell him how sorry they were for- for abandoning him..._

_But he wouldn't return. Godric's Hollow was full of strangers to him now. If he couldn't be who he was, it wasn't home._

Godric sat up, sweating and gasping, his green eyes glancing around wildly. He slumped when he realised where he was. There was no way he could sleep now, after that nightmare.

He pulled his robes on, and after a second's thought, strapped his sword to his belt. He had been trained to be a warrior, and there was no reason he should stop being one. As he stared absently at the goblin-wrought metal, his thoughts took an abrupt turn towards his nightmare.

It had been extremely easy to hide in plain sight; alarmingly easy in fact. He had watched the search parties go out to find him- he had even 'guided' some of them. Opinions were fickle, he realised. After a day of calling him coward, they started to worry and wonder, wanting him back. He had scoffed silently, watching them. Why would he come back when he knew he was going to be hurt again?

He shook himself out of his brooding and stepped down the stairs of the dimly lit inn. There was only one person down there, in front of the single candle on the wooden counter, holding a glass. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out the figure to be a girl only a few years younger than himself. She turned as he came closer.

His eyes widened at the unusual light pink streaks in her dark brown hair. Her eyes, frosty blue, fixed on him and both of her elegant light brown eyebrows went up on seeing who it was. "Couldn't sleep, Scion Gryffindor?"

Godric raised an eyebrow. "You know who I am". It was a resigned statement.

"The whole village knows. News here spreads fast, be it night or day. And the truth stays truth, unbelievably," the girl said dryly. She drained the rest of her glass with a single gulp. Godric sat down on one of the stools facing the counter.

"I didn't see you here today". He looked at her piercingly. "And you are the sort of person one wouldn't forget easily," he added, indicating her unusual appearance. The girl let out a high, mischievous laugh and gave him a sly look.

"Am I?"

He gasped as her hair turned a dark blonde from the roots down and her eyes darkened to amber. She smirked at his awed face.

"A metamorphmagus?"

"Level five," she said, nodding. She hesitated for a minute before holding out a small, tanned hand. "My name is Helga. Helga Hufflepuff".

Godric took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Call me Godric. You are related to Madame Hufflepuff?"

Abruptly, her expression darkened. She withdrew her hand quickly. "Yes," she said shortly. "I am her adopted daughter".

Godric tactfully didn't inquire further. They sat there in a surprisingly comfortable silence, Helga pouring out another drink for herself and offering him the bottle. He politely refused. He wasn't very fond of firewhiskey. He idly wondered what the kindly, no-nonsense owner of the inn would say if she found out that her 'innocent' daughter was sitting drinking alcohol at midnight for whatever reason instead of sleeping. He considered it and decided that it was better for his already traumatized mind if he didn't know.

"You want to go out?" Helga suddenly brought him out of his thoughts. She had finished her drink and was looking at him expectantly. She was still in her natural appearance, Godric noticed, though as he processed what she said, she shortened her waist length locks to her shoulders and streaked the natural shining gold with black as she had done with earlier with pink and brown. Her eyes however, stayed the same amber and were fixed on him, waiting for his answer.

"What do you mean, go out?" he said. He narrowed his green eyes at her. "You can't be _that_ drunk, surely?"

She snorted. "No, of course not. It'd take at least ten glasses to get me anywhere near tipsy. And Godric, this is Atlantis. Nothing here ever stops past sunset. The inn may sleep, and so may some others, but they are... exceptions. It is perfectly safe. The rumours aren't that far off track".

Godric's eyes suddenly glinted as something she said got to him. "_Ten_ glasses? How do you know?"

Helga turned red and glared at him as he snickered. He calmed down when her hand twitched towards her wand. "Alright, alright," he said, standing up. "Let's go".

Helga led him through the forests, her dainty feet easily finding their way through millions of rabbit paths. According to her, he would learn his way through within a few weeks if he worked hard at it. But why was she leading him here?

As though she could hear his thoughts, she turned around. She had a very serious expression on her face.

"Two friends of mine," she said, "live in the area we are about to enter next. They are twins, with a rather unusual bond. They don't sleep that much, seeing as they are from vampire heritage" she studied him closely, trying to see any sign of revulsion. There was none. "I beg you don't question their past as they'll enjoy it as much as you'd if yours was mentioned". At this Godric's eyes hardened and he inclined his head in acceptance. Satisfied, Helga continued down the path.

Suddenly a dark figure jumped down from a high branch in front of Helga and sprang back up as silently as a cat. A youth's voice, amused, and as smooth as silk, carried through the strong night breeze.

"Back again, Helga?"


	3. Not alone

Salazar Slytherin was a shrewd, pessimistic young fellow with sharp silver eyes, olive skin and long dark hair that constantly fell into his face, obscuring it from view. His sister Serena was a lot like him in many ways. She had the same lean, tall frame as her brother, save more feminine, and the same colouring. Her demeanour was less refined and she was clearly the more open of the two. She had a tendency to hex anyone (other than Salazar) who called her Rose, or Rena. It was impossible to fathom why Salazar called her Rose, but it seemed to be an inside joke that no one could understand. They both had the same devil-may-care attitude, dry sense of humour and a disdainful view of those they considered 'whiney', which everyone understood. Their vampire side didn't show much, though as it was their grandfather who'd been one, it was understandable. However, they apparently had extremely quick reflexes, superb eyesight, especially at night, and an acute sense of hearing.

Helga was a warm, friendly girl, who, while optimistic, never looked at the world as though it was better than what it was. She was very good with children, and was the type of person who hated having nothing to do. She was very fond of her adoptive mother and 'sisters', who had raise her. However, she did feel sad on her birthday, which was when she had been abandoned by her birth parents. This was why she had been drinking alcohol when Godric had found her.

Godric had settled into the strange life quite easily. He got along well with everyone, and they all accepted him and liked him and his warm, cheerful personality. He had already made friends with the kind barman, Madam Hufflepuff and many of the battle mages and warriors who lived there. They were impressed by his skill and aptitude for strategy and he in turn was impressed by their uncommon tactics and unpredictable moves during duels and combats. He was a quick learner and picked up their tactics fast and incorporated it into his style.

The Atlanticans, as they called themselves, were very well trained indeed. There was a school that taught the children how to read and write, and also taught them mathematics, potions and magical theory. They were also taught history, geography and etiquette. Typically, Atlantican children started learning from the tender age of five or six, and continued their studies there every day until the school had taught them all it had to offer, which was usually once they turned thirteen. From then on, they only had to go once or twice a week. The rest of the days, they were expected to continue the practical magical training they had been given since they were eleven. They would learn the basics, along with the practical application of the core subjects, before specialising in one or two areas of their choice. Then, they joined the sections of the community that had use for their specialised subject. They could choose to work full time, or part time.

Helga, it seemed, had a natural affinity for herbology and healing. She had started, mastering her natural skill and refining it a few months ago. She had also revealed to Godric that he was not alone in being able to control an element of nature. It had only been a couple of days previously when he'd told them, the same night he'd found Helga drinking alcohol. It had been an enlightening conversation.

**Flashback**

"_It was never home for me," Godric said suddenly, staring at his sword, which he was cleaning. Helga looked up, sticking her needle into the belt of the child's dress she was sewing to keep the stitches temporarily in place. Salazar glanced up from the book he was translating runes in and Serena just wore an expression that clearly said, 'Get on with it'._

"_Godric's Hollow, I mean. I didn't leave because I was scared"- Godric snorted in contempt- "I left because I got tired of caring, of pretending that everything was fine, when it was not. I got tired of wondering what it would be like to just burn out my life, the memory of my very existence from everyone's minds"_

_Godric was interrupted by a sharp voice. "What do you mean by 'burn' your existence out of their minds?"_

_Godric looked at the person who said it. Unsurprisingly, it was Salazar, with his silver eyes narrowed at the redhead, his lips thinned. "That is a strange choice of words" The fourteen year old continued, still looking at him contemplatively. He could feel Helga's eyes boring into his head._

"_You really meant it, didn't you?" Serena said suddenly, looking at him with her eyebrows raised. "You literally meant every word you just said, didn't you?"_

_Godric stretched out his arms, before folding them back and saying, "Of course". He smirked slightly, waiting for them to work it out. They all suddenly looked like a Lumos charm had been cast in their heads. Godric smiled a bitter-sweet smile. "You have no idea how hard it was, to hold myself back when all I wanted to do was let go, burn it all out, and leave, to live my own life. And now I have, but a lot of it wasn't on my own terms. They also still remember me, and are searching for me. I don't think I'd have left so quickly though, if what happened hadn't actually happened. Gryffindor blood, in all its literal nobility, runs through my veins after all."_

"_You stayed there as long as you did because you actually cared about them, the people who you knew would eventually stab you in the back," Salazar's voice was flat. "I find your endurance amazing"_

"_Me too," said Serena reverently. "I wouldn't last that long. Nineteen years, imagine, Sal!"_

"_I didn't," Godric turned around to meet Helga's eyes, which were now a golden brown. She smiled gently and sadly at him, suddenly looking much older and strangely, more beautiful, like a fallen angel. "Ten years, that's all it took- I ran"_

_She shifted in her seat, her hands clasped, the small, work-worn fingers entwined with each other. Her eyes were distant. "I was already so different; grown men had lusted after me ever since I gained control of my morphing. Children avoided me, I had no parents. To be able to control the very earth"- Godric's breath hitched- "it was too much. Not just for my young mind to comprehend, but for my magic to keep a strong hold on. It- I - caused an earthquake"- her voice trembled, her hands unclasped to grip the hem of her brown dress- "the village was levelled- so many people" – her hands let go of her dress in anguish, coming up to her mouth- "they were homeless. I"- her voice steadied now, the girl visibly regaining control- "I helped them rebuild it. Discreetly, of course. It brought me back some semblance of peace. I still think about it, though"._

_To think that __**Helga**__ of all people would lose control of- suddenly it hit him. Helga could control the freaking earth._

_Godric was just barely aware that his mouth was hanging open, and of Serena asking if he was fine. But- no it can't be. The book said- "That can't be!" it left his mouth before he could help it. He repeated it dumbly again. "It can't be!"_

_He sat up straighter and stared at Helga in the eyes. The fire was burning just a few feet away from the weird half circle they had formed. In the firelight, Serena's and Salazar's eyes seemed yellow and green respectively, like cats'. Helga still had the unfinished dress in her hand and Salazar's book had fallen to the ground, forgotten. The twins leapt down from the branch they were sitting down and crouched, looking at Godric expectantly. Salazar gave him the same flat look again. He spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully, keeping his eyes locked on Godric's._

"_Yes it can," said Salazar, an odd look in his eyes. Unexpectedly, he raised his palm up and twisted it downwards towards the fire in a spiralling motion. Godric never forgot what happened next._

_A deep, forest green tendril of magic trailed from Salazar's fingers, matching the colour of his irises, which held no trace of their usual silver hue. The magic pulsed and exploded- not into sparks as Godric had half-expected- but into sparkling droplets of water; clean, fresh water like showers of rain. Morphing themselves to fit the movement of the teen's fingers, the water droplets performed a fleeting, beautiful dance in the cool night air, spiralling and casting rainbows on the forest floor. Then, like a long silver scarf, the droplets twined themselves around Salazar's fingers and disappeared, with one last powerful pulse of magic._

_Salazar's arm slowly dropped down to his side again, trembling. His eyes- silver again- were wide and almost childlike in their simultaneous vulnerability and defiance. His voice sounded once again through the haze surrounding Godric's mind. "You are not the only one who can manipulate Nature. You really aren't"._

"_I know that all the books say this isn't possible, but- but," Serena burst out, "this is happening, we don't know if there are others like us, at least we didn't until you came along, but then-" she continued babbling, her words mingling together until she realised that nobody understood what she was saying. Her shoulders slumped. _

_Godric's mind couldn't take it anymore. Everything was spinning... he felt so tired... the world he'd known had just been torn to shreds and he felt as though the only pieces of it left had just been incinerated, and their ashes Vanished into nothingness... as in into everything. _

"_Godric? Godric, focus..," the rational part of his mind latched on to whatever the unknown person was saying, and he forcefully pulled himself back to reality, and, painfully, opened his eyes. _

_Godric opened his eyes. He was in his room back at the inn. A ray of sunlight was seeping in from the gap between the drawn curtains, making his sensitive eyes burn. Ignoring the dull buzzing in his head, he pushed himself up and into a sitting position. Why did his neck ache so much?_

_At that moment, the door opened and Serena came in. She looked slightly paler than usual and her eyes were darting from this place to that, almost like those of a frightened deer's. A tray was resting in her outstretched arms, and she rushed to put it down when she saw that Godric was awake._

"_You're awake!" something was off. Serena hardly ever stated the obvious. If he hadn't seen her absolute delight in the fact and her nervous fidgeting, he would have pointed it out with some slight amusement. As it was, he was concerned._

"_What happened, Serena?" At that, her happiness seemed to melt off of her face, and she looked more worried than he'd ever seen her before. Her brows furrowed and she asked, slowly, "You don't remember?"_

"_No, I- " Godric paused as he was overcome by an onslaught of memories from the previous day. "Actually... I think I do"_

_The expression of relief on Serena's face was worth the confusion and emotional overload that came with the memories._


End file.
